The Shark and The Mermaid Ch. 02

In the bathroom Kiara told me that she and Ron had a big fight last night "because he wants sex all the time" and asked for my advice because for some months now, she seemed to be less interested in the "loving part" of their relationship. I don't know what advice I gave her but she seemed content when we went back to join the gentlemen. Kiara and I exchanged seats and Ron could no longer reach me.

I was hot and intrigued by Ron's behavior and, after dinner was over, I decided to test the waters.

When we reached the car, instead of sitting in the back with Paul I told Kiara: "You know that I get dizzy when I sit in the back; I'll sit in front," and so I did. As soon as the car moved, I could feel Ron's hand under my dress. I tried to stop him but he persisted and reached my cunt.

While he started rubbing my pussy my left hand went to his pants and, with a very fast movement, I opened his fly. Ron was surprised and tried to stop me; but he didn't know that he was facing the "Oslo University Queen of Cocks," who then proceeded to fish for his penis and take it out.

He had no chance. He was paralyzed. I was an expert in jerking men and had him moaning and spurting in no time (both Kiara and Paul asked if he felt ill.) When we reached the theater, Ron was furious: he had to walk in front of us, and cover the sperm stains on his lap when we left the theater.

I should stop smiling. This 6,000 Km journey is no joke; I'd better keep my strength and slow down.

ELEVEN

Ron's 30th birthday and a beautiful afternoon at Ron and Kiara's home.

Kiara looked gorgeous in her purple dress. Even her father couldn't hide his appreciation for the beautiful and sexy woman in front of him (later on, I learned that he was in lust and love with her.) And I couldn't take my eyes of Ron. He was dressed all in white in perfect contrast with his handsome dark features. I could have eaten and fucked him in front of everybody.

The party was great and everybody was having a good time, but I noticed that Ron was still sore for the incident in the car. Well, past is past, what can I do?

When I went to the bathroom, Ron followed me and before I could react, he entered and locked the door.

I was startled: "Ron, it's your party, you need to go back."

"No, Mommy-in-law; this is payback time."

He just smiled, took me by the hair and planted a most juicy kiss in my open mouth. I tried to defend myself but was no match for his power.

"Inge, from now on, you're going to be my bitch and do whatever I tell you. I have wanted to fuck you since I met you and now your cunt belongs to me." "I know that you have given up sex, but starting today I'm going to make you want to fuck again." "You and your cunt are my birthday presents; understand?"

"On your knees!" he ordered and at the same time, he pulled me down by my hair.

"I want you to get acquainted with my cock, your new owner, which you are going to learn to worship and satisfy. Open my fly and start sucking, you cunt."

Just listening to Ron utter these words made me hot and wet. Nobody had ever talked to me this way, and I loved it!

I did as I was ordered and was very happy: Mr. Ronald Mekere had a gorgeous boa inside his pants. My mouth went to the boa's head and in less than three minutes, I had him spurting all over my face. Ron wanted more but there was no time. I kissed him, holding and pumping his cock as if we were shaking hands to seal a deal. And we went back to join the party.

Sisters: "Why do bad words feel so good?" "Are we all whores?"

The waves are getting big again. Is it because of the moon? I'm scared... I'd better do what Paul says: "If you are cold, or afraid, or nervous, or angry, just breathe, breathe deep, and you will be OK." Let's see if this is true.

TWELVE

Ron and I started fucking like bonobos. He would come to our house when Paul was at work or traveling and had me moaning and screaming (and some times crying) in no time. He loved my mouth around his cock and my tongue licking his balls. Ron's tongue was large and very strong - he could almost lift my pelvis when he ate me.

And he was smart. To test him I asked: "Am I better than Kiara?"

His answer: "Air and water, which is best?" Hmmm, not bad for a young man.

But I didn't know that "the Ethiopian Prince" had been cheating on my daughter for a long time. He had a bachelor pad, which he shared with three of his friends from college. After he made me his slut, he started taking me there to do with me whatever he wanted.

This was totally different from my promiscuous student years in Oslo. From the time I got married, I had only had two cocks inside me: Far's and Paul's; now, Ron was making me fuck whomever he wanted, at his pleasure.

He would invite three or four male friends, clients, or acquaintances for a "men's only" dinner in his apartment. After they were full, happy, and half drunk, Ron would introduce me as his private "harlot" (I love that word), a Scandinavian whore that he had brought to entertain his guests.

At 46, I looked 36, and my years of sucking and fucking dozens of men in Norway had given me the necessary expertise and a very clear insight on what men of different races, nationalities and sizes wanted from a woman. And I was able to deliver.

We used to have contests of endurance, but I had most of the men ejaculating in less than two minutes. I was very good!

Some times, Ron would auction me (or parts of me) starting at $200. Once, he got $1,000 for my mouth, $ 2,400 for my cunt, and $2,600 for my butt (it could have gone higher but I really liked the man who made the last bid and stopped the auction so that we could fuck.) "Mr. Pimp" (I also used this nickname for Ron) many times let me keep 10% of the transaction, but I had to beg and lick his cock like a hungry bitch to get my part of the business.

I don't know what to make out of this, but I was truly happy being a sex toy for all these men, and at the same time, I was proud that I was the one in charge of modulating their pleasure. That was my womanly power: I played my men like I played my piano: major, minor, sharp, flat; man, angel, pig, knight.

Sisters: "Let me explain: some men are pigs and some men are angels. Avoid these two, at all costs. They will make you unhappy...and you'll yearn for the past, your past before them. And then, there are true men and knights: Far, Paul, Ron, and a few more. If you are lucky, you get one in your lifetime. I was luckier, I got three:"

"Far, my first,"

"Paul, my best,"

"Ron, my last."

What if I find a shark? Well, that will be better than if a shark finds me.

THIRTEEN

I was the last person to see Ron on his way to the airport. He was going to meet with Paul in Rwanda (Paul was attending an international conference in Kigali and Ron had to interview three survivors of the Hutu-Tsutsi massacre of 1994 - still an issue in the annals of infamy.)

Ron was in a rush but still came to say goodbye. There was no time for sex. Ron looked taciturn (a premonition?), not his usual "fun and sex" attitude. Very softly, he kissed my lips and then my hand. He looked at me with his charcoal-black eyes and said: "Inge, I don't know what to do. I love Kiara but I'm in love with you. When I come back, we'll sort this out."

This was not part of the deal. To fall in love was unacceptable. I was speechless and angry, and happy, and ashamed, and flattered, and relieved...and I wish I could have said something - anything - before he left. That was the end, because I was not going to do to my daughter what I did to my mother.

Paul returned with Ron's body. The official version was "accidental fall" but I knew he was in real danger and somebody had murdered him. Hate was still there. Why bring up the past? Let the killers and the killed rest in peace...Why did you have to go back, my Ethiopian Prince? Can you see me now...?

Is this what you wanted...?

My teeth are chattering and my nails are blue. The Atlantic is getting colder - maybe I'm closer to Norway now...maybe it's my blood...maybe it's my heart...maybe it's what I remember...

___________

FOURTEEN

At Ron's memorial, I couldn't stop crying. Gabrielle and Erik tried to console me, but I was inconsolable. I was in mourning for him, for my Mor (why didn't she love me?), for Paul, for my family, for my dying Far, for my many lives...perhaps for myself...

"Why do we women cry like this, my Sisters?" "Why?"

I could see Paul, quiet and stolid, holding Kiara's hand.

I can't feel my fingers and my toes; I'm so cold...I can't swim...I don't want to swim...How will I reach Tromsø...?

___________

FIFTEEN

Nobody knew that my last kiss was going to be my last kiss. Again, there was no reason... Why should I die?

I'm naked and in the middle of the ocean. Nobody knows I'm here...

"Will you come with me, Sisters?"

They will find my clothes and my sandals on the sand, the Norse chain that Far gave me as a child, the anklet that Ron made me wear as his "hot cunt whore," and my wedding ring, from Paul, my beloved husband of 26 years.

That's all.

I have nothing else...

Oh God, help me...

Why am I remembering Paul's words now?

"God is a wish...and you cannot ask a wish to help you...you have to help yourself"

I'm freezing, I'm tired, I want to sleep, and I can't help myself...Oh God...I wish...

Sisters: "Am I like my mother?"

Something... someone...just bumped against my leg...

It's around me...

"Ron?" "Far?" "Paul?" "Shark?"

Where is everybody...?

Sisters...?

Anybody...?

I'm so tired and cold...I can't go on...I wish...I wish...

God...I wish...

God, it's Inge...it's cold...let me sleep...

Oh God...it's me...

It's only me...

It's Inge...

It's me...

Inge...

Me.